Echoes Of Honor

'Certainly, but—'

'But nothing, Benjamin,' Clinkscales growled. 'If you think you could get the hidebound faction in the Conclave to sign off on this, then all that fancy off-world schooling is getting in the way of your instincts again! By your own admission, you'd have to set a new—another new—constitutional precedent just to make it work! And whatever Mueller and his crew may have said to her face, they never really forgave her for being a foreigner, and a woman, and the spear point for your reforms. They'd never swallow another foreigner —and one who doesn't have the Star of Grayson!'

'If you'll let me finish a sentence, Howard,' Benjamin said even more patiently, eyes glinting as the old, irascible Clinkscales reemerged completely once more, 'I was trying to address that very point.'

'You were?' Clinkscales regarded him narrowly, then sat back in his chair.

'Thank you. And, yes, you're absolutely right about how the other Keys would react to any decision of mine to pass the Harrington Key to an 'off-worlder.' And I don't know enough about this Devon Harrington to begin to predict what sort of steadholder he'd make, either. I understand he's a history professor, so he might do better than anyone would expect. But it might also mean that, as an academic, he's totally unprepared for the command responsibilities a steadholdership entails.'

'Well, Lady Harrington was certainly prepared for that part of it,' Prestwick murmured, and Benjamin snorted.

'That she was, Henry. That she most certainly was, Comforter keep her.' He paused for a moment, eyes warm with memory now, and not dark with grief, then shook himself. 'But getting back to Professor Harrington, there's the question of whether or not it ever even crossed his mind that he might inherit from her. Do we have a right to turn his entire life topsy-turvy? Even if we asked him to, would he accept the Key in the first place?'

'But if we don't offer it to him, we may open still another Pandora's Box,' Prestwick said quietly. Clinkscales looked at him, and the Chancellor shrugged. 'Under our treaty with Manticore, the Protectorship and the Star Kingdom are mutually pledged to recognize the binding nature of one another's contracts and domestic law— including things like marriage and inheritance laws. And under Manticoran law, Devon Harrington is Lady Harrington's heir. He's the one who will inherit her Manticoran title as Earl Harrington.'

'And?' Clinkscales prompted when Prestwick paused.

'And if he does want the Harrington Key and we don't offer it to him, he might sue to force us to surrender it to him.'

'Sue the Protector and the Conclave?' Clinkscales stared at him in disbelief, and the Chancellor shrugged.

'Why not? He could make an excellent case before our own High Court... and an even better one before the Queen's Bench. It would be interesting to see which venue he chose and how the case was argued, I suppose. But then, I imagine watching a bomb count down to detonation beside you is probably 'interesting' while the adventure lasts, too.'

'But... but you're the Protector!' Clinkscales protested, turning back to his liege, and Benjamin shrugged.

'Certainly I am. But I'm also the man trying to reform the planet, remember? And if I'm going to insist that my steadholders give up their autonomy and abide by the Constitution, then I have to abide by it, as well. And the constitutional precedent on this point is unfortunately clear. I can be sued—not in my own person, but as Protector and head of state—to compel me to comply with existing law. And under the Constitution, treaties with foreign powers have the force of law.' He shrugged again. 'I don't really think a suit would succeed before our own High Court, given our existing inheritance laws, but it could drag on for years, and the effect on the reforms and possibly even on the war effort could be most unfortunate. Or he could sue in a Manticoran court, in which case he might well win and leave our government at odds with the Star Kingdom's while both of us are fighting for our lives against the Peeps. Not good, Howard. Not good at all.'

'I agree,' Clinkscales said, but his eyes were narrow again. He put the heel of his staff between his feet and grasped its shaft in both hands, leaning forward in his chair, while he regarded his Protector with suspicion. 'I agree,' he repeated, 'but I also know you pretty well, Your Grace, and I feel something nasty coming. You've thought this through already, and you'd decided what you wanted to do before you ever summoned me, hadn't you?'

'Well... yes, actually,' Benjamin admitted.

'Then spit it out, Your Grace,' the old man commanded grimly.

'It's not complicated, Howard,' Benjamin assured him.

'Will you please stop trying to 'prepare' me and get on with it?' Clinkscales growled, and added, 'Your Grace,' as an afterthought.

'All right. The solution is to transfer the Harrington Key to the Grayson who has the best claim on it... and the most experience in carrying it, at least by proxy,' Benjamin said simply.

Clinkscales stared at him in utter silence for fifteen seconds, and then jerked to his feet.

'No! I was her Regent, Benjamin—only her Regent! I would never— It would— Damn it, she trusted me! I could never... never usurp her Key! That would—'

'Sit down, Howard!' Command cracked in Benjamin's voice for the first time, and the three words cut Clinkscales off in mid protest. He closed his mouth, still staring at the Protector, then sank back into his chair once more, and a fragile silence hovered.

'That's better,' Benjamin said after a moment, so calmly it was almost shocking. 'I understand your hesitation, Howard. Indeed, I expected it—which is the very reason I was trying to 'prepare' you, as you put it. But you wouldn't be 'usurping' anything. Tester, Howard! How many other men on Grayson have given the Sword half —even a tenth!—of the service you have? You're the best possible choice from almost every perspective. You've earned any honor I could bestow upon you in your own right, and you were Lady Harrington's Regent and the de facto Steadholder whenever her naval duty took her off-planet. She trusted you, and you know exactly what her plans and hopes were—who else can say that? And she loved you, Howard.' Benjamin's voice softened, and a suspicious brightness glistened in Clinkscales' eye before the old man looked away. 'I can't think of another man on Grayson whom she would rather have succeed her and look after her people for her.'

'I—' Clinkscales began, only to stop and draw another deep breath. He kept his face turned away for several seconds, then made his eyes come back to meet his Protector's.

'You may be right,' he said very quietly. 'About how she felt, I mean. And I would gladly have 'looked after her people for her' to my dying day, Benjamin. But please don't ask this of me. Please.'

'But, Howard—' Prestwick began persuasively, only to stop as Clinkscales raised a hand, silencing him with a gesture, and met Benjamin's gaze with infinite dignity.

'You are my Protector, Benjamin. I honor and respect you, and I will obey you in all lawful things, as is my duty. But please don't ask this of me. You said she loved me, and I hope she did, because the Intercessor knows I loved her, too. She was like a daughter to me, and I could never take her place, carry her Key, any more than a father can inherit from his son. Don't ask me to do that. It would be... wrong.'

Silence hovered once more, and then Benjamin cleared his throat.

'Would you consider staying on as Regent, at least?'

'I would—so long as I was sure you weren't trying to ease me into something else,' Clinkscales said, and Benjamin looked at Prestwick.

'Henry? Would that work?'

'In the short term, Your Grace?' The Chancellor pursed his lips once more. 'Probably, yes. But in the long term?' He shook his head and held out both hands, palms uppermost, as he turned to Clinkscales. 'If you don't formally accept the Key, then all we've done is defer the crisis, Howard. That by itself would probably be worthwhile, of course. If we could hold it off for another ten years or so, perhaps some of the tension would ease. We might not even have Haven and the war to worry about any longer. But until we have a legal, known, and accepted successor to the Harrington Key, this entire uncertainty will simply be hovering over our heads, waiting. And, forgive me, Howard, but you're not a young man, and ten years—'

He shrugged, and Clinkscales frowned unhappily.

'I know,' he said. 'I'm in decent shape for my age, but even with Manty medical support here on the